


Behave

by dindjarindiaries



Category: Star Wars, The Mandalorian, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Fluff, Possessiveness, Praise, non-descriptive sexual content, sex in public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dindjarindiaries/pseuds/dindjarindiaries
Summary: After a grueling hunt, you and Din celebrate your success at a local cantina, both ending up with a little too much that leads you to do things that are a little too risky.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, The Mandalorian/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56





	Behave

“Wait, has there _always_ been a straw in there?”

Din chuckles as you ask the question, seemingly amused as he guzzles down the rest of his third drink within the hour. “Yes,” he answers, rather amazed that this isn’t something you’ve known even after years of traveling with him and a month of marriage to him. “I just rarely ever use it because it’s hard to clean.”

You raise an eyebrow as you snicker, bringing your third cup to your lips as you take a thoughtful sip. “You’ll have fun cleaning that out tomorrow. It’s gonna be so gross from this.”

Din shakes his helmet, sliding the cup away and leaning his forearm against the bar of the cantina as he watches you finish up. You’re surprised that neither one of you feel as exhausted as you should. The hunt you’ve finally finished with was so long and grueling that you knew you were going to have to leave the child with someone else beforehand. It makes it relieving now, knowing that you and Din have at least a night to yourselves before you have to fly back to Sorgan to get your little green son from Omera, though you do miss him dearly—especially after something as dangerous as what you and Din just had to do.

Maybe that’s how you’ve both ended up drinking yourselves to a state you know you shouldn’t be in.

You’re not drunk, no, but you’re not sober—and you’re feeling somehow even more energized than you were before entering this cantina. You’re sure that’s the power of all three drinks working in your system at once, clouding your mind and convincing you that you’re less tired than you really are. All you’d both wanted to do was celebrate a little, take a break before hiking back to the Crest and getting some sleep. The quarry’s already been taken care of on this planet, and so the both of you had been intent upon getting some rest in the ship until the morning.

But now, rest is the _last_ thing you want.

You finish off your drink and let it hit the surface of the bar dramatically, giggling a little bit when Din reaches a gloved hand over to cover yours. “Easy, _cyar’ika_ ,” he chides gently, chuckling through his modulator. His touch lingers, and that electric feeling that’s crackling through your veins only intensifies at the sensation.

You swallow hard and raise an eyebrow, noticing how Din’s visor is still looking straight at you. “Din,” you start to say, watching as your fingers start to take a grip around his, “I’m not tired anymore.”

“Neither am I.” Din pauses, his gloved hand lifting from the bar and taking yours with it. He settles both on top of your thigh, and instantly a jolt of the slightest pleasure appears as he grips it rather firmly. “I fear… we both may have had too much to drink.”

You shrug, your gaze drifting to watch as Din’s touch moves just an inch higher than where it’d been just moments ago. “Is it all that bad?” you question, voice soft and almost teasing as you look back up at him. His helmet’s tilted at you, as if to show you that you’re the only one in this rambunctious room who has his attention. “I’m sure that we can rest, we just have to…” you trail off for a moment, one of your hands covering his on your thigh as you encourage it to move even higher, “... blow off some steam.”

“ _Cyar’ika_ ,” Din drags in a warning tone, somehow moving even closer to you on his stool beside yours.

There’s a boldness the drinks have given you, now. Your hand moves up to his wrist, where you find a sliver of his exposed skin and start to run circles with your thumb on top of it. You shrug nonchalantly at Din, never looking away from the severity and intensity of his empty visor staring back at you. “It’s just an idea.” Your voice is hushed now, meant to be kept in the space between you, and you can feel Din’s grip on your thigh tighten. “Though I must confess it’s one I’ve thought about a lot this evening.”

Din looks to the side for a moment before he leans his helmet so close to you that the metal nearly brushes against your ear when he speaks. “Be careful, _cyar’ika_. Your proposal is beginning to get very tempting—and we are far away from home.”

You raise an eyebrow when his visor looks into your gaze again, stopping the motion of your thumb to instead graze the tip of your fingernail over his skin. “Then how can I convince you further?” You smile innocently at him as you become the one to lean closer to him. “Do I also confess that I’m burning at your touch, thinking about what else it can do?” Your grip on his wrist tightens when you feel his gloved hand squeeze your thigh. “Or how I want to hear my name breathed from your lips, so desperate and in need of—?”

You’re unable to finish, as Din makes you cut yourself off with a short gasp of surprise when his hand moves to grasp firmly at the junction between your thigh and your hip. His helmet is a mere few inches away from your face when he speaks lowly, his rasp barely passing through his modulator. “Am I going to have to do something about that mouth of yours, _riduur?_ ”

You smile slyly at him, your fingers now tugging up more of his sleeve as you answer. “I’d like to see you try.”

Within a quick moment, Din’s suddenly hopped off his stool, and he encourages you to do the same by taking a hold on one of your hands and gently tugging you with him. He slams down a pile of credits on the bar before he leads you out of the cantina, his movements always quick and calculated as he weaves through the crowd of people. Your every nerve feels as if it’s on fire already thanks to the anticipation of what’s to come—but you’re taken by surprise when Din tugs you toward an alley rather than continuing towards the direction of the Crest.

“Din?” you question, watching as he takes you down to the end of the alley and follows where it bends to the left, seeing it dead end just a few more feet down that way. “The ship is—.”

“—much too far away, and I cannot wait that long to take you,” Din answers, his gloved hands tight around your waist as he pins you between the wall of the alley and himself. “If you’ll have me.”

You nod at him, watching his helmet tilt in a pleased manner at your agreement. “But, Din, what if someone finds us here?”

“That won’t be a concern.” Din’s words are almost as firm as the grip he keeps with one hand on your waist, the other reaching for the edge of his helmet. “This alley’s between two closed stores, so as long as you stay _quiet_ —,” Din pauses as his helmet comes off, continuing to hold it at his side as his dark and dazed eyes practically devour you, “—we will be safe.”

You want to melt upon getting to hear his natural voice again, the one you adore so much and know you’d do _anything_ for, as you resign yourself to the idea. You let Din’s lips press against your own, following his lead as your hands secure themselves in the thick of his hair in a way that makes him grunt into your mouth. He pins his armored body even more against your own, keeping you in place as his eager kiss takes your breath away. The way he moves against you is so familiar and so relieving, already making you feel the entire galaxy within your veins as he works your mouth in all the right ways. Yet, the moment he pulls away and begins to work at your neck, another concern appears that you can’t help voicing. “If we hear someone coming, you _must_ put the helmet back—.”

“ _Shhh_.” Din’s breath is hot as it fans over your neck, his gaze rising to yours just for a moment to look at you seriously. He lifts his gloved hand that’s been on your waist and presses the thumb of it over your lips. “I told you to be quiet, _cyare_. You must behave if you want this to work. Understand?”

You nod eagerly at him, feeling the fire within your belly grow at his demands. You’re both being carried so far by the boldness of your drinks that you can’t think through all the repercussions of this. You can’t choose to be more careful and to have patience so you can complete this act within the safety of your ship. You both decide that this is what you need, right here, right _now_ , and you’ll be damned if you have to do anything else before you get to feel each other.

Din’s gloved hand falls back to your waist—his other still holding his helmet at his side—and he turns his attention to your neck yet again. Your hands continue to muss his hair as he kisses and bites relentlessly in ways that have you sinking your teeth into your lower lip hard enough to draw blood in order to keep yourself quiet. Your breaths already come heavier, and you can feel Din smile slyly against your neck as he recognizes this. He works until he leaves a mark in his favorite place, and you try to take a deep breath to compose yourself when he stops to speak to you.

“To whom do you belong?” Din rasps, his voice low and hushed to remain quiet as his dark eyes lift to meet yours. You can nearly feel yourself burning alive from your desire now, his words alone setting you on fire. With the intensity of his gaze and the feeling of his hand still secure against your waist, you feel as if you could fall on your knees right in front of him.

“You,” you whisper to answer him, hearing him hum with delight before he presses his lips to yours again.

“And I… to you.” Din murmurs these words between desperate kisses, his hand squeezing your waist as your hands wrap around his neck to pull him closer. “ _Gaa’tayl ni, cyare_.”

You understand what he means, and so as he continues to kiss you in the way that makes your head spin and your heart race and your stomach soar, your hands work to eagerly free what you need to in order to make this arrangement work. The thrill of being kissed like this and having no space between the wall and Din’s body is enough to have your hands trembling, making your work messy yet efficient as you soon feel Din pulling your body even closer to his. He’s pulled his mouth away from yours to instead bury his face in your neck once again, hissing at any contact that’s made.

And when you feel the sensation _you’ve_ been waiting for, you have to gasp softly to hold back any of the same sounds.

The first move is always slow, but you never realized how torturous it was until now. Your hands grasp desperately at Din’s clothed and armored back, finding their way beneath his cape to get a better grip. Your jaw tightens as you struggle to keep every feeling within, but the lack of distractions around you—aside from the few and far between shadows of those passing by the alley’s entrance—only makes you feel him _more_. The struggle to remain quiet becomes almost unbearable, and once you feel the second movement, you have to bury your face into his hair to stifle a moan that threatens to tumble from your lips.

“ _Cuy shev’la, cyar’ika_.” Din’s voice is muffled by the skin of your neck as he speaks, yet you can still hear the warning in his tone. “We wouldn’t want to have to—,” Din pauses to catch a groan in his throat when he moves with you again, swallowing it back down hard enough that you can feel it against you, “—stop now, would we?”

You shake your head, one hand now sliding up to grip at Din’s hair as the other still stays tight on his back. Every once in a while, you can hear the dull thud of Din’s helmet against the side of his leg as he lets it hang there, a sound that becomes more and more frequent the faster your shared pace becomes. Your teeth have started to sink so hard into your lower lip that you’re sure you’re drawing blood now, your chest heaving in your effort to keep every moan and whimper and yelp within you. You can feel the huffs of Din’s breath against your neck, seeing the veins of his own neck protruding more in his own struggle to remain quiet—something he’s not used to in an act like this.

When Din suddenly begins to hit that perfect place of yours he knows so well, you find yourself unable to hold back for a moment as the back of your head meets the wall, eyes screwed shut as lips part with desperation.

“ _Din_ ,” you cry out his name, a mixture of sheer pleasure and deep admiration.

The sound earns you a fierce covering of a gloved hand over your mouth, causing your eyes to open as you watch Din’s darkened gaze meet your own. His lips—panting from the effort of what he’s doing and trying to contain what he wants to say—brush against your ear as he speaks in a voice that’s low, firm, and curt, the sound coming through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. “ _Behave_.”

You show your relenting with another look into his eyes, seeing his glitter with approval. Yet, he’s quickly seeking out the refuge of your neck again as he buries his face there, just barely stifling a groan when you move in a certain way with him.

“ _Bid pel_ ,” Din muses—and you know that the use of his familiar tongue means that his efforts are being spent on things that don’t have to do with translations. “ _Bid jate_. _Bid jate par ni_.”

You close your eyes as your hand tightens in Din’s hair, causing him to hiss against your neck. You know that you’re both close to reaching that point together, and you have to bite at the leather material of Din’s glove that’s still over your mouth to keep yourself as silent as requested. Your hands show your desperation for you, one still moving feverishly in his hair as the other presses tight against his back. Din’s face leaves your neck as his cheek presses against yours, his lips near your ear again as he prepares himself to speak. You can sense the tension in his jaw and hear the whine he swallows back before he parts his lips.

“ _Ti ni, cyare—ni gedeti_.” His voice is low and tight, revealing that he’s had to press the words through a mass of other things within his throat. “It’s all right, sweet girl. Let it out. Right here.” Din’s gloved hand pulses over your mouth, reminding him that he’s covering it—and encouraging you to do what you need to when it all overwhelms you.

You find yourself complying around the same time as him, so many sounds muffled into the leather of his glove that you can’t pick any of them apart—nor do you try to. You can feel the vibrations of Din’s voice against your throat, having just about the same reaction as you as you both somehow successfully stay as quiet as possible. You’re left trembling against him as your eyes remain closed, your chest heaving from your actions and your efforts to keep everything trapped inside. You can still feel Din also breathing heavily against you, his breaths hot as they fan over your perspiring skin.

When he’s able to, Din lifts his face from your neck, pressing soft and gentle kisses against the side of your face as he moves his hand to instead cup your other cheek. “Good, _cyar’ika_ ,” Din praises you, his voice still hushed yet so much more tender than before as he brushes his thumb beneath your eye. “You did so well.” He moves his kisses over until he leaves one on yours lips, pulling away only to look you in the eye with one of his charming yet cheeky smiles. “And you felt even better.”

You laugh softly at him, still trying to completely catch your breath but nevertheless pulling him into one last dizzying kiss. “You’re truly one-of-a-kind, _riduur_ ,” you tease playfully when you pull away, giggling as you leave an additional kiss on his nose. “And _very_ good at everything you do.”

Din _tsks_ at you, trying to bite back a smile as he lifts his helmet back up. “Now, _cyare_ , there’s no time for more right now. Don’t tempt me.”

“All right,” you agree, trying to hide your smile. You help get everything back into place while Din gets his helmet back on. “I suppose I’ll behave.”

You can sense Din’s sly smile even from behind the helmet, especially as he wraps a gloved hand around your arm and gives it a squeeze. “I see you’ve learned your lesson.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, encouraging his helmet to meet your forehead as you look into his visor. “I think there’s still much left to be learned, _ner alor_.”

Din hums at that, his gloved hand trailing down your arm to meet your hand as he finally gives you the space to walk out from the wall you’ve been leaning against. “Another time, _ner kar’ta_.”

You chuckle at that, but end up biting back your smile when your first few steps are unsteady. Din instantly places a hand against the small of your back to steady you, and you can already sense the smug satisfaction he’s hiding behind that helmet as you look up at him. “Don’t say a word, Djarin,” you warn him, failing to hide your smile as you take his hand in yours again.

“There’s no need, Djarin,” Din remarks, giving your hand a squeeze as he leads you both back to the Crest.

Thanks to the steam you’ve blown off and the effects of your drinks wearing off, you’re easily able to rest as soon as you’re done cleaning up together inside the ship, falling asleep in Din’s arms as he whispers sweet nothings—easily morphing back into the gentle man you first fell in love with.

**Author's Note:**

> mando’a translations:  
> cyar’ika = darling, sweetheart  
> riduur = spouse, partner  
> cyare = beloved  
> Gaa’tayl ni, cyare = Help me, beloved  
> Cuy shev’la, cyar’ika = Be silent, sweetheart  
> Bid pel = So soft  
> Bid jate (par ni) = So good (for me)  
> Ti ni, cyare—ni gedeti = With me, beloved—I beg


End file.
